


I'll Spin For You (Like Your Favorite Record Used To)

by Oh_the_thinks_I_can_think



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Hurt! Niall, If You Squint - Freeform, Lots of Sex, Multi, Niall + the others, Niall Centric, OT5, Smut, So Sorry about that, WWA Tour setting, a tiny bit of daddy kink, again so sorry, dream sequence non-con rape, i'm so sorry about this guys, larry stylinson - Freeform, though i'm awful at timelines, ziam if you look really close
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-09
Updated: 2015-12-09
Packaged: 2018-05-05 19:06:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5386994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oh_the_thinks_I_can_think/pseuds/Oh_the_thinks_I_can_think
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Niall was in love. When he is asked later “Why would you deal with something like that?”, that will be his answer. He was in love. With four boys who didn’t quite love him back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [And_13_Orders_Of_Fries](https://archiveofourown.org/users/And_13_Orders_Of_Fries/gifts).



> So, this was hatched during a night of drinking and debauchery (not really, we were just goofing off). I have no excuse, except my brain is REALLY into hurting my baby Niall. So this is it. Just a long story about Niall in pain. I'm so sorry.
> 
> Blame And_13_Orders_Of_Fries, she never once stopped me. Even though she clearly has the power to.  
> also, thanks to her for the beta, as always.

Niall was in love. When he is asked later “Why would you deal with something like that?”, that will be his answer. He was in love. With four boys who didn’t quite love him back.

**

He knows how this will end. When by 11:00pm, Louis and Harry still aren’t talking to each other, even after smoking with Zayn and playing FIFA for a couple hours, he knows. 

Which is why he isn’t surprised at all when Louis climbs into bed with him later that night, his feet cold from padding barefoot through the hotel hallway, using the spare key Niall’s sure he swiped from the common room when no one was watching. He stays silent, even when lips meet the back of his neck, and hands slip around his waist, pulling him closer. 

“Hello, little Nialler.” His voice is slurred, and his accent is thicker than usual, both side effects of the weed, and Niall knows, even before he’s asked, that he’ll say yes. 

He always says yes. 

Louis’ hands travel over his tummy, light enough to make the muscles there clench and tremble; nails scraping lightly over his hip bones. He tugs, rolling Niall onto his back. Niall keeps his eyes closed, while Louis kisses his chin, his jawline, his cheek. He knows Louis is hovering, waiting; needs to see. Niall takes a deep breath, opens his eyes.

“Gonna be a good boy for me, little one?”

Niall isn’t sure why Louis needs this. He knows him and Harry play this way; has heard Harry call Louis Daddy on more than one occasion. Niall isn’t allowed to call Louis Daddy. So instead he mumbles, “Yes, sir.” 

That earns him a smile. Louis kisses him then, slow at first, just pressing his lips against Niall’s, then growing more and more urgent, slips of tongue and teeth and Niall can taste the sweet, sticky, deep flavor of bourbon on his tongue. Rough night, then. 

A hand on his dick confirms. He gasps, and Louis tightens his grip. It hurts; the fabric of his underwear is rubbing against his dry dick, but he can feel a bead of pre-come bubbling up at the slit. He’s not sure why he needs this either. 

“Mm, little Niall isn’t so little, is he?” Louis smirks but doesn’t laugh. He kisses Niall’s chest, licks over his nipples, bites at the space in between. His hands are tugging at the waistband of Niall’s pants, and he lifts up obediently. Once his underwear is discarded, Louis brings a hand up to Niall’s face. 

“Lick. Get it nice and wet, little one.” Niall nods, gathering as much moisture as he can on his tongue before licking Louis’ hand from palm to the tips of his fingers. He gets two more good licks in before Louis is gripping his dick again, and it is considerably better.

Niall moans his consent, and Louis echoes him. He doesn’t go slowly, but not as fast as Niall himself would go if he were alone. 

“There’s a lad. Go on; make those pretty noises for me. Wanna hear you.” 

Niall wishes he weren’t so affected, wishes Louis hand didn’t feel so damn good on his cock, tight and slippery, tugging at the base and twisting at the head just like he likes. But he is, and it does, and he loves him so it’s no trouble at all when he moans out, “Sir, please.” 

Louis nuzzles his ear. “Please what, little one? Know you don’t wanna come already. I’ve barely touched you.” He loosens his grip, until he’s stroking Niall, moving the silky foreskin back and forth gently. It’s just a different kind of torture.

“Or maybe,” Louis says as he crawls down the bed, “You’re asking me to fuck you.” 

Niall spread his legs a little wider, lets a small whimper escape. He can feel Louis smirk against his thigh. Hands come up his legs slowly, nails scraping the insides of his thighs hard enough to welt the skin there. Louis likes to leave marks. Niall squirms on the bed, and hands grip his thighs, holding him in place. 

“Always so eager for it.” Louis lifts Niall’s legs, spreading them wide and planting his feet on the mattress. Niall knows he’s clenching, knows Louis can see. There a short moment of anticipation before Louis runs a slick finger over his hole. Niall gasps out another whimper. He bears down just as Louis presses in, and – 

“Oh, fuck.” 

His eyes are closed, but Niall can see the smirk on Louis’ face, the image tattooed on the inside of his eyelids. He keeps his hands fisted in the sheets as Louis presses in and in and in, until he’s nudging that sweet spot with the pad of his finger. Niall’s eyes shoot open and he grinds down, almost fucking himself on Louis’ digit. 

Then there’s a tight grip at the base of his cock, and Niall realizes with a groan that Louis isn’t gonna let him come. 

“Look at you, all worked up, already fucking yourself on me before I’ve even gotten in.” He tsks at Niall. “Not very polite, is it? Not what good boys do?” 

If Niall wasn’t so turned on, he’d roll his eyes. Louis is making it sound like this is about him, like he is the one keeping them suspended mid - fuck. Like Niall is the one Louis wants to be fucking. 

Louis doesn’t wait for a response before he’s working another wet finger in alongside the first one. He opens him up quickly, hand still tight around his dick and Niall wishes he’d gotten high too. He wishes he could float away, out of his body, out of his mind, where everything is loud and taunting and mean.

He’s quiet as Louis undresses and rolls on the condom, slicks himself up. Then Louis is over him, holding himself up on one arm and guiding his dick in with the other. They groan in sync as Louis bottoms out in one long thrust. 

“Shit, Niall, always so tight.”

Louis pulls Niall up, so he’s straddling his thighs, sitting on his cock. The change in angle has the head of Louis’ dick snug against Niall’s prostate, so if Niall starts shifting his hips, grinding in small circles, he really can’t be blamed. 

Louis’ grip is bruising on Niall’s hips, nails digging in slightly, and Niall revels in the biting sting of it. Wants more, wants to be good for Louis. God, this is so fucked up. 

“Sir, please, fuck me, I’ve been a good boy.” 

Louis swears in Niall’s ear, then goes to work, bouncing Niall up and down on his cock, and it’s so good; it’s always so good. The way Louis holds him close to his chest, whispers the filthiest things in Niall’s ear as he slams him down over and over. They’re sweaty and loud and god knows Niall will be sore in the morning, but right now he’s okay. 

He feels Louis thrusts start to stutter and he can tell the man is getting close, but he really doesn’t want this to end. This is all he gets to have. So when Louis says “I’m close love, be a good boy and come for me”, Niall tightens his arms around Louis’ neck, bites the soft skin of Louis’ shoulder hard. He clenches around Louis cock and comes, squirting sticky and wet between them. 

Niall feels Louis pulse inside him, swearing loudly as he fills the condom. He kisses Niall’s sweaty neck and shoulder, before letting him fall back on the bed. Louis breathes deep a few times, catching his breath, then ties off the condom. He smiles at Niall, lifts his eyebrows in that way he does before heading to the bathroom. 

He’s in there a while; Niall can hear the shower running. Niall rolls over to his side; he thinks about moving to one side of the bed, but he knows there’s no need. Louis comes out smelling like Niall’s body wash, towel wrapped around his small waist. Not many people have seen Louis naked; he’s not like Niall or Harry, who if given the choice would be naked most, if not all the time. So Niall counts himself lucky that he gets to admire Louis’ tummy, his sharp hip bones, his thick thighs. 

Louis says nothing as he shuffles about, dressing himself again. Niall knows what this is, knows Louis is going back to Harry now, sporting Niall’s marks and Niall’s scent, and he knows they’ll probably fuck before the night is through. Harry will go back to being a good boy and Niall will be here when he isn’t.

Louis squeezes his thigh, flashes another smile his way. 

“Thanks, Neil. Sleep well, little leprechaun.” And then he’s gone. 

Niall runs his hands over his thighs, feels the welted skin Louis’ left behind, smells him if he inhales deep enough. 

Counts himself lucky. 

If Niall decides to shower in the morning, that's his own business.


	2. Chapter 2

The thing is, Niall isn’t stupid. He sometimes wishes he was, because at least then he’d have an excuse. He could say “I didn’t know any better”, and it would be the truth. But he’s not. He’s a bright young lad, who is perfectly aware of the shithole that he’s managed to dig for himself. 

But that’s just it, isn’t it? He dug the hole. He said yes. He keeps saying yes. So why would they stop? If there was a fit blonde thing who wanted his dick, kept agreeing of their own free will to take said dick, he knows he wouldn’t turn them down. So no, Niall isn’t stupid. But he is hurt.

**

It’s been a few days since that night with Louis, and things have gone on exactly how he knew they would. Harry has made it back into Louis’ good graces. Niall can tell because Harry has shifted from grumpy cat to overfed house cat; snuggling close to Louis on the bus, kissing him whenever he can get away with it. He swears he saw Harry rub his bum against Louis’ leg once when they were learning the new routine for the shows. 

Louis, smug bastard that he is, is lapping it up; always patting Harry on the head, holding him round the waist, whispering in his ear. They do this; play these games, pushing one another as far as they can, but they always come back. Always stay together. A small, lonely part of Niall admires that. 

“Alright, mate?” Liam startles him as he drops down onto the couch beside him. Niall smiles around the fingers at his mouth, grin spreading a little wider when Liam gently pulls his hand away, tangles their fingers. 

“Yeah, I’m good. Just thinkin, is all.” Liam nods, rests his head on Niall’s shoulder, a solid warmth. Liam’s good at that; grounding him. With his head on Niall’s shoulder, Liam has the same vantage point as Niall, albeit sideways. He can see Harry in Louis lap, giggling as Louis digs his fingers into his side. He feels Liam sigh.

“Come on, Nialler, let's have a cuddle.” With that he stands, pulling Niall up too by the hand he’s still holding. Niall doesn’t mind; Liam’s hands are bigger than his, makes him feel a little more secure, a little less invalid. 

They crawl into Liam’s bunk, a small cramped space that forces Niall to lay half on top of Liam, listen to his heartbeat as Liam scrunches his fingers through Niall’s hair. They don’t speak; let the rumble of the engine and the noise of the bus fill where silence would creep in. 

After a while Niall’s lids get heavy, his body lax and lazy on top of Liam. His shirt is soft against Niall’s cheek, and he nuzzles a bit into Liam’s chest. He smells good, a little like Hugo Boss and a lot like home. Niall knows he could fall asleep like this, have done before, but then Liam’s voice is soft in his ear. 

“I’m sorry Nialler.” 

Niall sighs, his body sinking. “Payno, don’t.” But Liam is already lifting his head, making Niall meet his eyes. He’s too tired for this; too drained to fight anymore. Liam is giving him that look. The one he has grown to hate. The one that says “I wish it wasn’t like this. I wish we loved you more.” 

Niall doesn’t push him away as he brings their lips together; doesn’t say no when Liam slides his hands under his shirt. He just closes his eyes, wills the tears away, lets Liam kiss him and hold him. Shifts silently onto his back and lets Liam take him out of his pants, lets the so sorry, babe wash over him like cold water. 

When Liam takes him into his mouth, he moans unabashedly, because he wants them to hear. The noises he makes are choppy, broken with the effort to hold back his tears. His eyes are shut tight; he can’t see Liam but he knows the older boy is looking at him, knows his brows are furrowed, focusing on sucking Niall good, just the way he knows he likes. 

When he comes, it’s down Liam’s throat and he can hear him swallow it all, feels him wipe his mouth, kiss the juncture of Niall’s hip. He moves back up, and Niall shifts, giving Liam his back to cuddle, because he can’t hold back the tears anymore. They burn his cheeks, slip over the bridge of his nose. 

This was Liam’s way of making amends, of apologizing for the hurt that fills Niall’s chest. He meant well, but all he managed to do was absolve himself; justify their actions with his own. Niall will never tell Liam that, because that would hurt him, and Niall would rather go on forever with this lump in his throat, than to rob Liam of ridding himself of his. 

Liam is sweet, kind, generous in ways Niall had never known before. He’s energetic and excited about life and naive. He knows the fans don’t love him like they do Harry or Zayn, and he can’t play guitar like Niall or be sassy and quick like Louis. All he has is his heart and Niall will always protect that, even if it means leaving his for the wolves. 

Niall waits until Liam is asleep, turned on his side away from him, before rolling out of the bunk and climbing into his own. His pits are sticky with sweat and he knows he should shower, but he’s tired. Too tired to do anything other than roll onto his stomach, clutch his pillow tight, and fall into a fitful sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads up, the first part of the chapter is a rape scene.

“Now you decide to say no?” 

Louis voice is like venom, seeping into Niall’s bloodstream. It’s dark, and Niall can just make out three boy – like shapes in the distance, over Louis’ shoulder. He’s pinned in place by the boy’s arms, bracketing him on either side of his head. 

“Don’t be like that love. You know you want to. Don’t we always make you feel good?” 

Zayn’s voice rings out, and suddenly he’s behind him, lips pressed close to his ear. He licks a kiss into Niall’s nape, chuckling when Niall flinches away. He’s breathing hard, eyes trying to adjust to the darkness, to place just where everyone is, where he is, but then he’s on his back, pressed into a mattress. No, a body, someone is holding him. His legs are up, held by a second pair of arms and then someone is pressing into him.

White hot, blistering pain shoots through him as someone forces themselves in his hole dry. He can hear grunts, low moans of encouragement from the others. His arms are restrained; held together by one big hand he knows belongs to Harry. He can only thrash his head back and forth, tears streaming from his eyes. He’s trying to speak, to shout, to scream for them to please let him go, but his voice is gone. He can’t make them stop.

There are kisses, sweet words, a hand around his prick; they’re trying to make this good for him. He just wants this to be over, for them to stop, but they keep going; one after the other, manhandling him into positions, pinning him down and forcing their way inside his abused hole. 

A large hand come up and pushes his sweaty fringe back, presses a kiss to his forehead. “I’m so sorry babe.”

***

Niall jolts awake in a panic, kicking his legs out, trying to release the phantom grip on his ankles. His t-shirt is drenched in sweat, clinging to his skin; his chest heaving with the effort of catching his breath. His heart is racing; Liam’s voice is still prominent, bouncing around his head like an unwanted bell, or a loud siren. 

His eyes dart back and forth in the darkness, trying to determine where he is, and he realizes he’s on the bus, in his bunk. He jerks open the curtain, stumbling out into the small kitchen area. Niall splashes water on his face, and goes to the fridge for a bottle of water. When he closes the refrigerator door, Harry’s sleepy form is there.

“Jesus, fuck!” Niall jumps a bit, clutching at his chest. Harry’s mouth pulls upward in a sleepy smile; he’s in just his pants, and there’s a scrap of fabric knotted in his curls. He looks young, impossibly charming even in the dark. Niall can’t catch a break.

“You okay Ni? Bit jumpy.” Harry moves closer, attempts to wrap his long arms around Niall like he’s done countless times before. Niall steps back, out of reach. 

“Yeah, mate, just had a weird dream.” 

Harry nods seriously, a small frown on his face. Niall knows that frown. That downward turn of lips that means Harry is in fix it mode, wanting to make whatever is wrong right again. Niall has grown to hate that frown. 

“What are you doing up?” Niall asks, twisting the cap on his water to give his hands something to do. Even as flustered as he is, he can’t be sure he won’t reach out to smooth the lines in Harry’s forehead. 

“Oh, came out for tea. Throat’s just taken quite a hammering.” Harry can’t help the fond smile that spreads over his face; Niall knows that. He knows that Harry isn’t being cruel; he’s just shameless. That doesn’t stop Niall’s chest from tightening, twisting so fiercely it makes his head spin. 

Must he gloat about it?!

Harry hip checks him as he moves past, setting up the kettle and reaching into the cupboard for mugs and tea. Niall takes a gulp of his water, willing his heart to beat at a normal pace. Flashes from the dream assault him; Harry’s large hands pinning him in place, breath hot in his ear, cock splitting him open. 

“Ni? You hear me?” Harry is gripping his hand and it takes all his willpower not to jerk away. He’s looking at Niall; that frown framing his face again. Niall shakes his head, moving out of Harry’s grip and finishing his water.

“I asked if you wanted a cuppa? Looks like you need it.” 

“Nah, I’m good. Just gonna head back to my bunk. Night, Harry.” He gives the boy a small smile, turns and heads back to his bunk before Harry can respond. Niall knows he will ask if he can come too, have a cuddle. Niall doesn’t want to tell him no.

The thought makes him chuckle weakly as he slides under the covers. He’s heard the phrase poetically tragic. Now he gets it. 

He listens to Harry in the kitchen, hears the clink of ceramic and the whistle of the kettle. He pictures Harry standing there, sipping his English breakfast, frown still on his face. He waits until he hears Harry move past his bunk and slip back into Louis’, hears his breathing even out before he rolls over. 

He curls up tight, covers bunched up under his chin, and he lets the tears fall. He can’t help feeling pathetic, hopeless. He hates this; wishes he were different, wishes he were stronger for the umpteenth time in as many days. Sleep comes soon, and he’s so tired, he doesn’t dream.

**

They're going out tonight, after an amazing show; something Liam suggested and Louis and Zayn have agreed to loudly. Harry had smiled devilishly, saying he'd been hoping for a chance to wear his leather pants again before they left South America. Louis' neck almost snaps with the force of him turning towards Harry and he exhales, gives him this look, and Niall kind of wants to throw up a little.

They make it to the club after only two detours, one to get food beforehand and another to get Haz off his knees in the McDonald's toilets. Zayn is high already and this time when he offers the spliff to Niall he takes it, knows he'll need a little more than beer to get him through tonight. 

The club is loud, bass pounding out a rhythm Niall's heart has no choice but to match. Liam is up in the DJ Booth, trying drunkenly to convince the DJ to let him get at the turntables. Harry and Louis are out on the dance floor, smashed up against each other in such a fashion that Niall can't tell where one small boy ends and the other taller boy begins. They're not really dancing, so much as fucking with their clothes on, Harry with his hand in own hair, thrashing his head back and forth and biting his lip like he's putting on a show. He probably is, wants everyone to see how much he likes it, how much he's gagging for Louis' dick anywhere he can get it. 

Niall must be staring quite hard, because he doesn't notice Zayn until he's plopped down beside him, swinging an arm around his neck and pulling him in for a smacking kiss on the cheek.

"Come'ere lil mama lemme whisper in ya ear." 

His mouth is on Niall's neck, practically moaning into the space where his in-ears usually rest. Niall chuckles, ignores the shiver racing down his spine. The song ends, blends into another bass number Niall thinks he recognizes as DJ MuscleBoy. Louis and Harry are making their way over to them, Harry hanging off of Louis like some kind of groupie, giggling as Louis says something into his ear. Niall throws back the rest of his drink.

"Knew it was just a matter of time before Payno got his way." Louis says, motioning to the booth where they can see Liam's snapback bobbing to the beat of the song, fist pumping like they do in the music video. 

They all wave to him, and he waves back, bright smile pressing his cheeks into his eyes. He motions for them to get out on the dance floor, does a little spin and kick like MJ, stumbling over his feet at the end. The boys all laugh, Niall too, even though he kind of just wants to go home. 

"Lot of birds out there, boys, sure they wouldn't mind bending over for the lads of One Direction." Louis calls over the music. Zayn shakes his head, smirking like he's got a secret.  
"How would you know, mate? Surprised you noticed anything else, what with Haz workin for it like he's gettin a check." Harry grins, runs his hand through his sweaty hair, licks his lips. They're a bright, sinful red, full from him biting them. Louis rests his hand high up on Harry's thigh, digs his nails in a bit and Harry gasps. 

"He has been a bit greedy, hasn't he?" 

Niall isn't sure what does it, why he has a flash of green course through his system, making him clench his fists tight and grunt as he stands up. He mumbles something about heading to the bar and leaves, not looking back at the boys and the no doubt confusing look on their faces. 

He makes his way through the crowd, miraculously without tripping or getting anything spilt on him and waves to the bartender, a soft pixie looking girl with brightly colored hair and a nose ring. She smiles at him, flicks her curls over her shoulder as he asks for five shots of tequila and a tumbler of Jack and coke. He looks up to the booth where Zayn has made his way to Liam. He can see the dip in Zayn's back as Liam presses his hand low on his spine, pulls him in for a snog. He makes that Jack a double.

"Someone's on a mission." Louis says as he comes up next to him, arms resting on the bar, casual as anything. Niall wants to whack him. He nods instead, thanks the barkeep for the order, hands the tray of tequila to Louis. 

"Got no reason not to be." 

He knows he sounds bitter, heated for not real reason other than his own personal brand of betrayal. It's not that he doesn't know how it goes, how it always goes on nights like this, where they're wound up tight and need to let off some steam, be normal 20-somethings for a bit. He just, well. He wants what isn't his and its getting to be a bit annoying, the way his heart picks up and his lids get low, watching them, wanting them. He finishes his drink in three big gulps.

"Gonna try to pull, then? Nothing like a good one off to loosen the muscles."  
Louis winks at him, and makes a crude motion with his hand. Niall knows he's right, knows he should take the pixie girl up on her offer, pull her into the stalls and get his hand up her skirt. He doesn't want to though; he wants to sulk, to drink, to hurt. Why is he so fucked up?

He shrugs, follows Louis back to the table, where Liam and Zayn are joined at the hip on the cushions, Liam tapping out a beat with his fingers on Zayn's knee. Harry's made it back out onto the floor, dancing by himself, hands on his thighs, lip tight between his teeth. 

Louis watches for a bit, they all do, before he motions to his boy, gets him back on his lap. They grab their shot glasses and Liam says, "What are we toasting to?"

Harry shifts on Louis' lap, smiles when he hears the man's sharp intake of breath. "To going out!" He raises his glass.

"And getting in." Louis says, rasing his drink as well, pinching Harry's side. 

"I'll drink to that." Zayn says, leaning back against Liam a bit. They clink then drink, throwing them back with ease, wincing at the burn in their throats. 

Niall's well on his way to properly tossed, his head getting foggy and his words slurring a bit more than usual. They all are really. 

Well, except Harry, who only drinks in moderation and never has a hangover the next day.

'Kale smoothie drinking freak', Niall thinks, sinking down into his seat a little more. He's in the middle, a couple on either side, and he's sure he's never felt so out of place. Or horny. 

There's the warmth of a hand on his thigh and he pushes up into it without thinking, before he hears Louis' chuckle. His eyes snap open (when had they closed?) and he looks down at the hand, follows the line of a tattooed arm up to collarbones, long shiny expanse of neck, over to dimples. 

"You okay, Ni?" He nods before the words are out of Harry's mouth, shifting a bit, making Harry's hand fall lower on his knee. The boy traces the line of his scar through the rip in his jeans and Niall is getting angry again. 

"Bit pissed, if I'm honest." he says, trying to shake Harry's hand off his knee, out from under his skin.

"Our Nialler's on a mission. Saw him throwin' 'em back at the bar." Louis says, misunderstanding him (like always) and without checking, Niall knows all their eyes are on him now. 

"Don't drink too much mate, won't be any good to anyone later on." This is Harry again, green eyes piercing through whatever resolve Niall had managed to slip in place. His hand is still there, still stroking his knee, fingers catching on the inseam of his jeans and traveling up up up. Niall hates him just a little bit at that moment.

'Got no use for me now, do you?' he thinks but doesn't say. It's always a bit startling with Harry. He has this way of making the person he's with feel like they're the only person in the world who matters. He's sweet and cheeky and always a bit naughty, like he wants to get spanked. Niall knows he probably does. If he's honest, he's thought about the burning sting of his hand, red from giving Haz what he asks for, what he deserves, on more than a few occasions. But he doesn't get that. That part of Harry is for Louis. 

Even now, when Harry seems to be intent on feeling out Niall's cock through his jeans, he's perched on Louis' lap, no doubt acting on Louis' instruction. Niall knows he only gets a piece of them, of all of them, but the piece he wants from Harry isn't on the table. He only gets what Louis says is okay. 

Harry reaches his target, palming Niall through his jeans, biting and licking his lips again like he really wants a taste. Niall can see Louis hand on Harry's waist, squeezing, encouraging him. He knows that if (when) Louis nods, Harry will lean in close, hair framing his face and hiding his eyes, and ask in his lowest register, politely of course, because Harry Styles is nothing if not polite, "Can I suck you off Ni? Please?"

Niall is out if his seat before he knows what he's doing. He's got his cell out and he's calling for a car to take him home, to get him out of there before he does something he'll regret. Before he does something he won't. He thinks he can hear them calling after him, asking him where he's off to so fast, but he can't turn around, can't be that person for them tonight. Not tonight when he's been reminded so sharply of exactly the role he plays. He just, he can't.

Basil is waiting for him out front, ushers him into the waiting van, asking after the boys.

"They'll come when they're ready." He says, laying down in the back seat and trying to breathe through the swimming of his head and racing of his heart. He needs to go home.

**

When they do make it back to the hotel, it's well into the morning, sun starting to peek through the slivers of space where the curtains don't meet. Niall is still awake, hears them standing outside his door, the whispering and the banging no doubt from Louis' fist. He ignores them, shuts his eyes and rolls over. He'll talk to them tomorrow, when he has to. Right now though, all he has to do is stay quiet, pray that they leave him alone. Just this once.


	4. Chapter 4

It wasn't that Niall had forgotten how things worked with them. He knew better than anyone exactly how bright the red flashes of anger were, how the slimy green feeling of jealousy clinging to his spine felt. Niall was not a stranger to this. 

He knew them too. Knew how they would react, how each one would hold their faces, which expressions he would see pass over each boy's features. Louis was always loud, sarcastic and prickly, telling Niall to "buck up, don't go all girl, interrupted" when Niall would have pints with his breakfast. 

Liam would overcompensate, smiling and holding him more, defending Niall to Louis with whispered words and sharp disappointed looks that Louis would shrug at, his body language reading "he knew what this was" without saying it. 

And Niall did. 

But he loved them. 

He hated this.

Harry stays quiet though, watching him with that frown in place again, like he's confused, like he doesn't know what he did.

They have a show tonight, so Niall turns up to sound check early, like always, wanting to kick around with the band a bit before getting to work. He needs the reprieve of the music to mellow him out before the show. 

So of course when he gets there, Louis and Harry are already waiting.

He sighs loudly, keeps his sunglasses in place as he goes about setting up the amps for his guitars. He says nothing to them and they say nothing back but Niall can see the hurt in Harry's eyes. 

Louis is standing in front of Harry, their foreheads pressed together. He's whispering to the younger boy, and Harry's nodding with that stupid frown on again. Louis gives him a peck, holds him for a bit, pats his bum. Then he's heading Niall's way, hands in pockets of his jacket.

"Bit rude today, aren't we Niall?" He holds his hands out, tugging the jacket away from his body. His steps are sure, and Niall knows he's trying to pick a fight. He's too tired for this shit.

"Not today Lou." He calls out, hand up to stop Louis from getting any closer. Louis keeps coming. 

"Not today? When, then Niall? When are you gonna get the stick outta your arse? We're all bored of it. 't's not fun." He shrugs, like that should be the end of it. Like Niall should listen to him, like he has the last say and Niall is so beyond tired of his shit.

"I don't give a fuck what you all are." His voice is sharp, low. "I'm not Haz, Louis. you don't own me. I won't roll over and show my belly so try again." He's up in Louis space now, standing toe to toe and he wants Louis to do something, say anything. He wants blood.

He knows Harry is watching, eyes bright and hands shaking a bit. Knows it's his fault.

"What is your problem? Huh? Little Nialler feeling left out? Need a bit of love to set you to rights?" Louis says, smirking a bit, like he's figured it all out.

Niall punches him. 

**

They probably should've cancelled the show. Both Niall and Louis had gotten some good hits in before Harry pulled them apart, angry tears welled in his eyes. He'd moved Louis back, large hand splayed over his chest, speaking in hushed tones even as Louis got louder. Niall had said nothing, not even holding his throbbing side, not daring to look at anyone as he stalked to the bathroom. 

Everything was tinged with red, his left eye swollen from Louis small capable fist. He breathes slow, willing his heartbeat to calm just enough for him to be able to think around the ringing in his ears. He needed a drink. 

"Niall?" 

Liam's voice rings out like a siren, even through the bathroom door. Niall stands still, watching his reflection in the mirror, frowning at himself, like Liam would if he answered him. 

"Please Niall, just - come on." 

Niall counts to ten, then twenty then fifty before he heard footsteps leading away from the door. He thinks about punching the wall, or maybe the mirror, get that bastard back for showing him exactly what he is. He slides to the floor instead.

Even after he'd calmed, went back out to do his job, the show was stilted, hard. Louis avoided him, which was just as well. Louis wasn't the one who had to wear sunglasses in the evening like some kind of jackass. 

Even in his anger, he'd pulled his punches, only wanted to wake Louis up, get his attention. Make him understand. Louis had no such qualms.

They were all distant, but so was he. He was out of sorts; he didn't feel like himself, and he didn't know how to get back to being Niall again. It'd never gotten this bad before. 

After the show he'd been quiet, while the others laughed and joked, trying to find the comfort again. He was the first on the bus and the first off it, heading into the hotel without a word. No one followed him.

Now he stood in the shower, going over the last few days in his head, reliving the worst bits again and again. Harry's sad eyes. Liam and Zayn's unsure looks. Louis defensive attitude. 

The worst part though, was that he got it. He knew why they were so confused; why Louis was so upset. Niall had started this, way back when it was just a bit of a laugh, when 

Zayn and Louis were horny and they weren't yet tied down, faithful in their own rights. 

When Lou had said "Bet Niall'd be amazing at head, huh Z?" And Zayn had shrugged, took another sip from his red solo cup. 

"Maybe. Eager enough. He's got that gag reflex though. Don't much fancy vom on my prick, if I'm honest." 

And Niall had murmured, "Not much of a problem for me, though mate. I can handle myself." into his own cup, before throwing the rest of it down his throat, stretching his neck to swallow, keeping the alcohol from lingering on his tongue. 

There had been a lull then, a sharp silence that hung in the air, both boys watching him, waiting on him. Niall had crushed his cup, then sank to his knees in front of Zayn, looked up at him. 

He'd sucked them both off that night, one after the other, throat sore and scratchy from the thrust of their hips they just couldn't help. Zayn held him, wanked him off with Niall in his lap; Louis made him tea. They cuddled him close, and Niall knew then that once would never be enough. Knew then that he'd do just about anything for these boys, told them so, in hushed tones he'd hoped they wouldn't hear. 

Even after Louis staked his claim on Harry, and Liam had gotten over his "I don't fancy blokes" phase, they came to him, asked if he was still up for it. Constantly checked if he was okay. And he was, because they wanted him. They loved him, said so often, even when he wasn't on his knees.

Liam and Harry had been a bonus really. Niall would've been content to keep to himself, come when he was told, be special to Zayn and Louis for as long as they wanted him. But then Louis had this fantasy of "Little Nialler and Hazza, all worked up for me", and Niall had agreed. 

Of course he did. He was so far gone already. 

And so it was. The boys, sometimes together, sometimes one at at time, would come to him, ask him, and he would say yes. Every time.

So yeah, he got it. Louis' anger made sense. To him, Niall had just woken up one day and decided to be a twat, throw tantrums even though he kept saying yes. He knew how it looked; knew Louis was pacing around right now, shouting at no one in particular "If he didn't want to, why wouldn't he just say so?" 

But Niall didn't want to say no. He liked it, liked being wanted, needed. He loved them. But they stopped checking on him, stopped asking. 

Stopped loving him back.

Maybe they never did; maybe it was one of those things where you tell the bird what she wants to hear, so you can keep getting in her pants. 

It didn't feel like that though, not when Zayn was stroking his cheek, when Louis was telling him how good he was, when Liam was kissing him. 

The water had long gone cold in the shower, Niall too twisted up in knots to really notice until he started shivering, pruning up. 

He turned off the water, stepped out and dried off, wrapped a towel round his waist. He padded over to his suitcase, pulled out joggers and an old ratted jumper, probably Louis' originally. He was so fucked up. 

He was sat on his bed, scrolling through twitter, trying to get back to rights, when there was a knock at his door. He phone pinged in the same moment, a text. 

Can we talk? x

It was from Harry, and Niall knew instantly that it was him outside his door. He could say no, not tonight. He could pretend to be asleep, it had been a long, trying day after all. Harry would understand. Shaking his head, he sighed, went to open the door.

If there was one thing he knew about Harry, it was that he was contrite. He didn't like people being upset with him, or in general really. Especially not the boys. Especially not Niall.   
He was much like Liam in that respect; and so Niall usually wore a brave face for him, protected him. Niall had failed to do that this time; left Harry to his own thoughts and feelings, and he'd hurt himself. Niall could see it; see the bags under his eyes, the wringing of his hands as he tugged on the sleeves of his own jumper. They had a lot of common ground.

"Can I come in?" 

His voice was small, tugged at places in Niall he'd rather let heal. He moved back, watched Harry slink past him, closed the door behind him. When Harry stood in the middle of the room, like he didn't know what to do, Niall had motioned to the chair, sat down on the edge of the bed opposite him. 

Harry watched him, those leafy green eyes studying him, reading him. Niall felt naked; Harry had always been good at that, getting him. He looked back, he had to, begging Harry with his eyes not to fail him this time; to get it so he wouldn't have to say it out loud. Harry frowned that frown, eyebrows making lines and patterns across his forehead that Niall wanted so badly to smooth away. But he needed Harry to see, so he stayed still.

It went on for what felt like two and half lifetimes, them sitting stock still, speaking without words. Niall looked away first, down at his hands, bringing them up to bite at his already sore cuticles. He shifted, feeling Harry's gaze weigh on him, press him down. 

"Ni." Harry spoke, barely a whisper, but to Niall he was shouting. He sounded strained, like he was battling something inside himself and that's not at all what Niall was looking for. 

"I'm fine, Harry." He bit out. He sighed, staring down at the ground, disappointed. Not even Harry understood; he didn't get him this time. He didn't know him.

Harry nodded, shook his head in the same motion, like he couldn't quite accept what Niall was telling him. It did something to Niall, clawed at him. 

"What do you need, Harry? It's late." Niall knew he was being cold, but he didn't have anything left. He just wanted to sleep, and not dream, pray that he would feel better in the morning. 

Harry sighed, ran his hand through his hair, shook it out like he's taken to doing lately. It's gotten so long. Another part of Niall wanted to run his fingers through it, get a good grip. Tug just a little too hard. Make Harry groan with it.

"I want you to be better." Harry said, hands open like an offering. Like a cure. "I want to make it better." 

Wasn't that Harry in a nutshell? Always the gentlemen; always the good son, the charmer. The lover, not the fighter. Niall snorted, he couldn't help it. Neither could Harry; it was   
just how he was wired; wanted everyone to be happy, and happy with him. It was probably why he liked to submit so much. Niall understood him, in that moment, even if he was still charred around the edges.

Niall looked at him then, really took him in. His body was slouched; not sloppy, but subdued, almost broken but not quite. His eyes were downcast, hands clasped tightly in front of him. He was truly a sight. 

"You want to make it better Haz? Wanna fix it?" Niall was speaking too fast for his thoughts to catch up to his mouth. "Wanna be a good boy for me?"   
Harry looked up then. licked his lips. Niall could see the shifting of his muscles; he was slipping into that headspace already, the fuzzy, obedient place he went sometimes, needed to go to.

"Yes." His breathing picked up, and his eyes were wider. "Please." 

Jesus.

Niall could easily get addicted to this. 

He took a deep breath, tried to steady himself. He didn't play often, barely at all really, but he knew that he needed to be in control, lest he hurt Harry more. Louis would not be pleased. 

Niall wondered briefly if Louis sent Harry to do this; if he knew Niall would do this, if Harry had permission. He hoped he didn't.

"Come here." Niall sits up straighter on the bed, spreads his legs a bit wider, watches Harry's face as he steps in between them. He nods at the floor, pointing and Harry folds beautifully, legs close together, hands already clasped behind him. Niall makes a note to compliment Louis later on his boy. 

But for now, Harry is his. Harry wants him.

Niall lifts his hips, slides his bottoms over his bum, down his legs. He steps out of them slow, careful not to touch Harry yet. Harry's eyes are trained on his cock, watching it bob around with his movements. He licks his lips again, and Niall grips himself, gives a tug, base to tip. 

"Harry." He calls out. The younger boy's head snaps up, he meets Niall's stare. He looks fucked out already; Niall tugs a little harder, hears Harry whimper. "Do you want something?" 

Harry looks down, bites at his lips like he's not quite sure what the right answer is. His gaze locks on Niall's hand, still lazily pulling at himself. He huffs out a breath.

"Wanna suck you off." 

Niall reaches out, tangles his free hand in Harry's curls, feels the thick strands in his fingers. He brings his mouth so close; if Harry just sticks out his tongue he can taste him, gather the pre-come that's leaking out of him him on his tongue. But Harry's a good boy; always waits until he's told. 

"You know how to ask. Done it enough times, right?" Niall tugs his hair a bit harder, revels in the sharp intake of breath, the small noises Harry makes. Niall can see where he's hard, knows he's pressing thick and angry against the fly of his signature black skinnies. 

Harry's hands stay behind his back though; knows this isn't about him. Niall knows it's part of why he's so hard. 

"Can I suck you off, Ni? Please." 

Harry's barely finished his sentence before Niall is tugging him forward, all the way down on his dick. Harry opens perfectly, mouth slack and wet and fucking perfect. It takes all 

Niall has not to close his eyes, enjoy the warm heat of Harry's capable mouth, finish quickly. 

But Harry's face looks just as good as his mouth feels. The way he focuses, loves sucking dick. He moans around it, a deep raw sound Niall was sure only existed in porn. But Harry Styles is a whole other level. 

Niall knows Harry is putting his all into it; can see the strong bow of his shoulders and back, stretched artfully, with Harry's hands still behind him. Niall guides him by his hair, bobs his head up and down, uses his mouth like he wants. Its so good, but Niall is silent, wants to make Harry work for it a bit. 

Niall's gut is still twisted, he's still got all these feelings, and he wants to be better. He really wants Harry to make it better. 

Harry is groaning around him now, looking up at him through wet lashes. He wants Niall to talk, tell him he's good, needs it. It's only been a few minutes but Niall is so close already. He pulls Harry off by the hair, hears the wet pop when he slips out of Harry's throat.

"Is that the best you've got? Thought you wanted to make me feel better, Haz? Thought you wanted to be good?"   
Harry whimpers again, whining and pulling against Niall's grip in his hair. Niall knows he must be hurting himself, but watching Harry struggle to get back on his cock, to be good for him, is almost too much. 

"Use your words, boy." Harry actually shudders at that, and Niall chuckles. He wants to pet him, kiss him, tell him he's proud of him. But not yet. 

"Please, let me. I can, I promise. I can, I can -" Harry is babbling now, tears springing to his eyes. He's so damn desperate, so eager to prove himself. 

Niall is addicted to this. 

"Show me. Make me come." And Harry is on him again, with double the enthusiasm, if that's even possible. His suction is perfect and he's doing this thing with his tongue and Niall can't see straight. 

He reaches around Harry, untangles his hands, groans low when Harry grips his balls, rolls them around in his hand. He's so messy, chin all wet from drooling over Niall's cock. It slips down to his balls, getting them wet too. Harry pulls off, moves down to suck and hum on his sack, pull each ball in his mouth, jerks him with his hand. 

"Jesus, fuckin - ah God." Niall can't help it, Harry is a fucking pro at this, and he knows it; if he weren't so far gone Niall knows he'd be smirking, trying to wiggle a cheeky finger inside Niall. The thought makes Niall clench, feel the tail tale fire singe at his spine, rumble low in his belly. 

"Pull off, haz. 'M gonna - on your face, come on." Harry slips off his prick again, holds his mouth open as he continues to play with Niall's balls. Niall gets his hand on his cock again, so slick and slippery with Harry's spit and his pre-come. He gives one, two, three tugs and then he's splashing over cheekbones, covering Harry's tongue, watching it slip down over his jawline, drip to the floor. 

Harry sighs, a dopey grin on his face. Niall closes his mouth, tells him to swallow. Harry does, shows him that he did. Niall flops back onto the bed, tries to catch his breath. He makes a mental note of where all his bones are, if any of them turned to jelly. 

There's a brush against his leg, then another and Niall leans up a bit, sees Harry shaking, trembling as he tries to discreetly rub off on Niall's bare leg. Niall can feel the wet spot against his calf, knows Harry is leaking, ruining his pants, soaking through his jeans. 

"Ni, please. I did good, right? I made it better?" His voice is high, tinny and strained. Niall sits up, runs his hand through Harry's hair again, feels him shiver. 

"Yeah babe, you were so good. Did just what I asked, made me come so hard, let me paint your face with it." He slips his other hand lower on his chest, pulls at his nipples like Niall knows Harry likes. "Take yourself out, Haz, wanna see you make a mess." 

Harry full on moans, reaching down with shaking fingers to unbutton his trousers, hissing as he finally gets a hand around himself. His cock is red, almost purple right at the tip, and he tugs slow, moaning into Niall's thigh and bucking up like he can't help it. Niall knows he can't. 

"Such a pretty boy, getting off from that. Look how wet you are. So messy." Niall keeps petting him, playing with his nipples through his jumper. Harry is sweaty, wound tight, so damn sexy right now. 

"Come on love, want you to come for me. You've earned it." Niall leans down, kisses at Harry's slack mouth, smirks when he growls low in his throat, feels the splash of come on his foot and shin. 

"So good, so good for me. The best boy huh?" Harry nods weakly, falls back onto his feet, hunched over as he tries to slow his breathing. Niall watches him, strokes his hair, pets his chest and back. After a few minutes, he tilts Harry's head, meets his eyes, asks his color. 

"Green. Like a shamrock." He's smiling all dopey again and Niall can't help but chuckle. Harry is an idiot. 

They get cleaned up, Niall tugging a really sleepy Harry back into the shower where thankfully there is more hot water. They play around, swatting at each other, pinching each other's bums. Harry purrs like a cat when Niall shampoos his hair, scratches at his scalp. He lets him dry him off on his own, earning another swat when Harry tries shaking out his hair like a dog. 

Later, when Harry is back in his jumper and a pair of Niall's basketball shorts, his own pants and trousers thrown into Niall's hamper, Harry hugs Niall, sighs against his throat. 

"Feel better though, right?" He asks. Niall shifts a little, trying to feel himself out, see if there's any dust caught in his corners. 

He settles for shrugging and laughing, nodding as he kisses the crown of Harry's head. They separate, smile at each other before Harry steps out the door. 

Hey, Haz?" Niall calls out. Harry turns on his heel.  
"Tell Tommo, I'm sorry I punched him, alright?" Harry smiles, nods. 

"He says the same." 

Niall laughs; knows this is one of those times where Harry is paraphrasing. Probably. He waves goodnight, watches Harry until he turns the corner at the end of the hall, headed back out to the bus back to Louis. And for the first time in a long time, he thinks he's mostly okay with that.


	5. Chapter 5

Niall was - getting there. He wasn't quite back to rights, but he wasn't really out of sorts either. He just was, and that was a whole lot better than the other thing. There was less of a tingle under his feet, less urgency, less doubt. 

He and the boys were okay. They came around slowly, sniffing around him like dogs, making sure he was safe to interact with again. It stung, but it was a welcome itch, like on a yellowish bruise before it heals up.

He and Louis were good. Louis had come to him the day after his scene with Harry, eyes squinted. 

"Young Harold tells me he made it better." Louis looks him up and down and back up, stopping at his crotch. "Well?" He looks up at Niall's face, arches an eyebrow. "Is it better?"   
Niall had laughed, nodded. 

"Yeah, mate. It's better. Good nurse, that Harry. Good boy." Louis had preened, ruffled his feathers like a proud peacock, nodded and walked away. Niall knew they were gonna be   
okay. 

And so was he, with some time.

**

Shows came and went. Days blurred together, bleeding into one another until he was sure they'd slipped into some kind of time stop, like the kind on the shows Zayn watched with the volume down on the nights he had trouble sleeping. 

One night, Niall honestly isn't sure which, he comes out and sits with him. It's not a good night; it's one of those he still has sometimes, where his insecurities sneak up on him, make him scared to fall asleep. He was getting there; he just wasn't there yet.

Zayn is quiet, not moving as Niall slides down to the floor beside him. Doctor Who is the show, Niall learns, and it's older than him, a couple times over. He drifts in and out of focus, content to let the sound of Zayn's breathing help him slow his. 

Hands slip into his hair, gentle fingers scraping at his scalp. He hums and leans back into the touch, it feels good. After a while Zayn pats the space beside him, and Niall goes easily. The next episode starts, and fingers continue in his hair, with Niall's head in Zayn's lap this time. 

They don't talk, but Niall thinks, and he knows Zayn is thinking too. Maybe he's thinking about how Niall always ends up here, after its done. After the cycle has finished and they've wrung all that they can out of him, he always ends up here. And Zayn always holds him, strokes his chest, settles him. 

He loves Zayn, just as much as he loves the other lads. Maybe a bit more. Zayn never asks anything of him. Never expects him to do anything other than be himself. He looks out for him, show the world his love for him every night when the cameras catch the Irish flag print on his in-ears. Zayn loves him.

More time passes, and he doesn't exactly fall asleep but Niall does rest. Here, sharing space with Zayn, he's safe. He's always safe with Zayn.

"Alright?" Zayn looks down at him, and the room is dark, the telly dimmed with the pausing of the show. Niall shifts, nodding as he meets his eyes.

"Yeah, think so." 

It's then that he notices the spliff in Zayn's hand, the small red tip, and he can't help but smile. They always end up here too. He sits up, stretching his legs out over the edge of the couch, watching Zayn blow smoke rings. His lips are spit slick and red when his tongue darts out to lick over them.

Zayn nods, more to himself than to Niall. "Okay." 

Niall racks his hand through his hair, and gets up to go to the fridge. He knows Zayn gets thirsty when he smokes, so he gets two bottles of water and settles back down on the couch next to him, their thighs touching, as he hands one over to Zayn. 

"Thanks, babe." Zayn gives him a slow wink, long eyelashes fluttering over sharp cheekbones and Niall is starting to feel a little high himself.

He watches Zayn take a long drag, his chest slightly puffed out with the action. They lock eyes, and then his hand is around Niall's neck. He's leaning forward before Zayn starts to tug him in, mouth open slightly, his body reacting before his brain remembers what this is. They shotgun slowly, thick smoke forming a line between them, a connection he can see. 

Niall leans back and closes his eyes, exhales through his nose like he learned way back at the bungalow all those years ago. Back before everything got so big, so much. 

Everything is so much and he has to sit up and breathe deep to try and catch up to his thoughts. 

Zayn's fingers are at his side, pressing in just enough to feel, his other hand holding the joint out. Niall takes it, presses his lips to the wet tip, inhales deeply. It's good, earthy and thick on his tongue, and when he goes to exhale Zayn is there again, breathing in as he breathes out. They're so close, foreheads touching, chests only a few inches apart. 

"Just breathe, yeah?" Zayn tell him, smoke escaping as he speaks. Niall swears he can feel the words ghosting over his nose and cheeks. He's on his way to properly stoned; always been a lightweight. Zayn and Louis are the experts, always smirking at them when he and Liam get too high to function, sitting with their heads together laughing at nothing. 

They don't so much anymore, get high together. Not after weedgate, which is the dumbest name Niall thinks he's ever heard, but he gets the reference. They don't really do much   
of anything anymore, not like they used to, back before Niall started letting the boys use him. He thinks maybe he's the reason they don't. 

"Hey." Zayn calls out, gripping his side a little harder, the blunt ends of his nails pressing in a bit. Niall moans before he can stop himself, curling into the touch. "You're thinking too much."

Zayn always tells him that, always pulls him back before his thoughts swallow him up. He thinks its kind of funny, what with the way Zayn lives in his head, quiet and reserved until he comes out to interact, then he's quite loud. Like a bridge troll.

Niall can't help but laugh, small hiccups building until he can't stop himself. Zayn is watching him, eyebrows raised, and it sends Niall into a second laughing fit.

"You're a bridge troll!" He manages to get out between giggles. Zayn just smiles, shaking his head as he takes back the joint, pulls on it again. 

Niall shifts, resting his head back on Zayn's lap. For someone so thin, he's really comfy. Niall turns his head, nuzzles into the small space low on Zayn's torso. He smells strong here, musky and thick, and Niall would like to get his mouth on skin, taste where he smells the strongest.

Zayn's arm comes down to rest on Niall's tummy, rucking up his shirt to rake his fingers through the trail of hair at the waistband of Niall's trackies. 

"Feeling good, babe?" 

Zayn is being Zayn again, always checking in. And Niall is being Niall, wanting things he shouldn't. 

"I love them." He says because he has to, because he can here. Zayn will listen, tell him he gets it, because he does. Liam is just as niave across the board, not just with Niall. Zayn doesn't respond, just keeps petting him, lets him speak.

"I love all of them. They know, right?" He looks up, meets Zayn's eyes, drowns in the amber there for a bit. "They have to know. But, they can't love me."

He sits up, and Zayn stays quiet, his hand slipping up Niall's chest and over his shoulder. 

"Not the way I want. So." Niall knows why, but it helps to say it sometimes. To know someone else can see, someone else knows why he ties himself in knots for them every time. 

"I can't - I can't say no. I don't want to." He turns to face the older boy. "This is all I have." 

The joint is low now, no more than a roach. Zayn puts it out in ashtray, then turns too.

"You don't have to." Zayn says, simple as anything. "As long as you know." 

Leave it to Zayn to put him right. Make him feel justified, make him feel good. Zayn always makes him feel good. 

Niall shuffles over, climbs into Zayn's lap, feels him against the back of his thighs. This feels good too. Feels right, like he belongs.

"You know, right? You love me." He phrases it like a question, as he nuzzles Zayn's neck, smelling him. He smells good too, like pot and aftershave. Hands mold to his waist, rubs his back. Lips are at his ear.

"Yeah, babe. I know." A kiss is pressed to his temple, once then again. "I love you." 

The words wash over him in waves, settle deep in the pit of his stomach. Zayn's mouth is on his, pressing and searching, calming him in ways he didn't know a kiss could. Zayn's hands are strong, secure as he turns them, lays Niall out on the sofa, gets under his shirt. 

Nails are scraping over his nipples, down his tummy, fingers hooking into his waistband and he lifts up without being asked. He's so easy for Zayn; always has been. Zayn makes it easy. 

There are lips following the line of warmth Zayn's fingers left, and Niall doesn't have enough strength to stop the sounds coming from his mouth. He wants to pull them back, store them up; keep them from the world outside of the bubble they've wrapped themselves in, but Zayn's hand is on his dick, sure fingers wrapping around and there's a wetness he wasn't ready for at his tip. He thinks it might be pre-come, his own excitement and a little bit of love seeping out of him. But then there's velvet, passing over him, licking him and oh, god Zayn's mouth is so good, always so good, even when he's sober.

He knows he won't last, tries to say so around the garbled whimpers leaving his throat but Zayn just keeps sinking down, the tightness of his throat hugging his prick and Niall is   
really not gonna last much longer.

Niall grips Zayn's shoulders, trying to get his attention, get him to speed up or slow down, anything but stop. Zayn doesn't stop, just looks up at him through wet lashes and its all Niall can do not to come down his throat. 

He feels - kind of like he's flying; like a kite or a balloon tethered by a piece of twine, threatening to snap any minute. He thinks he says as much to Zayn, tries to anyway, but he's so far gone he honestly isn't sure which way is up. 

Niall knows its mostly the weed, that its curled around his conscience and blurred his senses. He also knows nothing has ever felt this good, will never feel this good as long as he lives. Tears spring forth then, filling his ducts and clouding his vision. Zayn hums around him, squeezes his hip like he's offering comfort, encouragement, a silent "Its alright, babe" that Niall can hear bouncing around his skull. 

He comes. 

Zayn, to his credit, holds on, sucks him through it, wringing out the last bits with jerks of his hand. When he's done, Zayn tucks him back into his pants, kisses his side, then curls up behind him, gathering him into his arms. 

Niall turns, wanting to give Zayn something, anything after that life changing experience he's just had, but Zayn hushes him, pets his back.

"M good babe." He whispers in Niall ear, and Niall pouts. He can feel Zayn's prick digging into his side. He opens his mouth to say something but Zayn kisses him instead, quiets his thoughts. 

"This is just for you babe. I'm good, promise." 

Niall falls asleep like that, Doctor Who fading to a dull white noise in the background, Zayn's arms around him. He dreams that night, and its the best sleep he's had in a long time. And if the boys come in later, taking in the scene and decide to sleep out there too, well, that's their business.


	6. Chapter 6

Niall wasn't stupid. And it wasn't that he'd forgotten how things worked with them. But he wasn't expecting this. 

They'd gathered in the back lounge of the bus the next day, everyone spread out in a circle. He was on the long couch, Zayn on his left, arm slung over the back of his seat, and he couldn't help how he sank down, further into the couch, closer to the comfort of Zayn's body. It was just. They were all looking at him. 

"Niall." This was Harry, who sat on the floor next to Louis, long ridiculous arms wrapped around his long ridiculous legs, eyes bright and brow furrowed. "You need to tell us." 

Niall was taken aback. He shrugged, shifted. "Tell you what? I thought we were okay."

"We are." Zayn said, tugging him in a little more. "But you aren't. You need to tell them babe." His voice was reassuring but Niall was heating up again, flames were licking up his spine. 

"And this is how you get me to do it? Rat me out and then gang up on me? What the hell, bro?" He shrugged Zayn's arm off his shoulder, his hand going for his mouth before he realizes. Liam comes to him then, flanking his other side, pulling his hand away from his mouth, holding Niall's little hand in both of his larger ones.

"Nialler, no one is ganging up on you. We just want to help. And don't say nothing is wrong. You punched Louis." Niall winced. Liam's voice was soft, but the words splashed over him like cold water.

"In the face, no less! This is my money maker." Louis gestured to his face, struck a blue steel pose. Harry giggled, pinching Louis' bum.

"We all know this is your money maker, Lou. Made us bloody rich, hadn't it?" Louis shrugged, pinched Harry back. "Well, that too." He smiled a bit, before turning back to Niall, watching his with those sharp eyes. 

Niall was having trouble. He'd been getting better; the nightmares were almost gone, he hadn't punched anyone else. He was getting better.

And what if he did tell them and they laughed? Or shrugged it off. Or told him the truth. Niall didn't know which was worst. 

Harry was in front of him, holding his thighs, calling his name. Liam and Zayn had moved away, but he could still hear them. His chest hurt.

"Niall. breathe babe. Breathe with me okay?" Harry's voice was soothing, even though Niall could hear the tremors in his voice. Niall's chest really hurt.

He breathed deep, once, twice, then again. 

"Don't be scared Ni. We're not gonna hurt you and we're not going anywhere. We just wanna know, okay? Please." This was Liam; Daddy Direction. The sensible one. Niall loved him.

More breathing. Someone was rubbing his back; it felt good, solid. 

In, out. In, out. 

"Okay." Niall spoke then. His own voice sounded foreign, like it sometimes did after an attack. He was okay though. He knew that. 

So he told them. How it started, how it kept going, how it made him feel. Most of it they knew, they'd been there, but he just kept going. Niall told them he loved them, always had, told him they hurt him, kept hurting him. He told them he knew they didn't mean it, told them he didn't wanna stop. 

He kept going, until he was empty, until it all went out of him, and he was breathless again. 

No one spoke for a while. And then a while longer. Then Harry pulled him down, onto the floor and into his arms.

"I love you, okay? I love you." Harry was shaking, and Niall knew he was crying. One by one the other boys joined them on the floor, a dog pile of emotions. Niall lay in the middle, touching them, all of them, let them cover him up. He closed his eyes and rested. And when he dreamed, he was safe. He was getting there.

**

Niall was in love. When he is asked later, in a quiet tone by Louis, who is pressed up against his back, “Why would you deal with something like that?”, that will be his answer. He will see the nods and sad expressions on the other boys' faces, catologue their regret, feel them all migrate a little closer to him on the bed. He would smile at them all in turn, shrug, as if to say, it's alright now, and he'll mean it. He was in love. With four boys who didn’t quite love him back. But they were learning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo, that's it? thanks for hanging in there until the end. This is the longest thing I've posted so, yeah. Hope you liked it. Comments are welcome, encouraged, begged for.
> 
> I'm at daddyharryina67impala.tumblr.com if you wanna come be 1D trash with me.


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